


Return and Collide

by asfddsfe (TheCohort)



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Chirrut POV, M/M, Pre-Movie(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 13:30:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8981914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCohort/pseuds/asfddsfe
Summary: The Force, a return, a conversation, and a kiss.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I've never written anything in the Star Wars universe because I have a horrible grasp of the world's history and everything that goes with it. That being said, I love these characters, I'm stubborn, and I will not be satisfied until their relationship tag is at least 4 times larger than it is now so I'm struggling though and making myself contribute. This is set in the nebulous time between the Naboo crisis and the battle of Geonosis (probably). Make of that what you will.

It was either very late or very early when Chirrut snapped awake, nervous energy in his fingers and heart beating loudly in his ears as he listened to the surrounding silence of the temple. Everything was as it had been when he had lain down to sleep. He could hear the cool desert wind outside. He considered for a long moment what was wrong, pulled himself out of bed and trailed after his feet where they wanted to go. Chirrut followed his nervous energy through the temple, carefully making himself a drink, cradling the comforting warmth to his chest as he made his way out of the sheltered walls and beneath the open sky. He sat, stone steps cool beneath him and waited.

His fingers were cold, his caf was luke-warm, and his skin was starting to go numb where it was pressed to his stone seat through thin linen robes when he finally heard it. Far away the faintest sound of boots grinding against the dusty roads of Jedha. Chirrut's grip tightened around the ceramic cup, his feet planted firmly to the stone steps against the urge to tap impatiently.

Closer and closer the steps came until finally Chirrut heard the weary, familiar voice, asking, "What are you doing out here?"

Chirrut smiled, eyes slipping closed in some sort of relief. "Waiting for you, apparently." Baze gave a grunt of acknowledgement, the grind of boots against steps, and then Chirrut felt the shift of air and rush of familiar smells as Baze lowered himself onto the top step beside him. The smell of sweat was stronger than the cool Jedhan night warranted and Chirrut wrinkled his nose in feigned disgust. "You're filthy."

"Probably." Baze grumbled, voice rough with exhaustion. Chirrut heard him take a breath through his nose and then, "Is that caf?"

"Yes."

"Thought that was frowned upon."

Chirrut's lips twisted into a crooked smile. "Frowned upon, but not forbidden." He grinned easily and quoted, "An addictive substance that causes hyper energies and addles the mind."

"Ah. So this is an old habit, then."

Chirrut ducked his head, smiling toward his lap and trying to ignore the heavy weight that seemed to lift upon hearing Baze's teasing. It had been too long since they'd last spoken, yet nothing had changed. Chirrut hadn't relized he'd been worried about that until Baze was beside him again. Baze sighed and laid down, collapsing against the stone floor. Chirrut frowned, considering his friend for a long moment.

"Are you all right?" He finally asked.

"I'm tired." Baze grumbled.

Chirrut tilted his head in thought, blind eyes to the sky, "Yes, but I meant..."

"Chirrut." Baze interrupted. "I don't want to talk about it."

Chirrut felt a sick twisting in his stomach. There was certainly something wrong. Baze seemed heavier for his time away. None of the other monks would speak of what he'd been called away for. Perhaps they hadn't known, but Chirrut knew that something was changing. He could feel it in every moment, not just in his friend but in the world around them as well. Chirrut considered the space between them. It seemed more obvious than before.

Chirrut waited, and eventually Baze sighed. "Do you ever think they were wrong?"

"Who?"

"The Monks. The Jedi. Just, _they_."

Chirrut frowned, bottom lip pouting slightly as he considered the question. Baze sighed and shook his head, the faint scratch of hair against stone tickled in Chirrut's ear.

"No." Chirrut finally said. "I have confidence in the force."

Baze sniffed faintly. "I thought I knew what the force was, but when I left," The shift of cloth against dust, a shrug, "I couldn't feel it."

Chirrut listened to his friend's steady breathing in the quiet night, and considered. He had the sudden thought that this wasn't really happening and he was still asleep, dreaming a wish in vivid detail. He fumbled, hand stretched to his right searching until he found Baze's hand, warm and real in his own. Chirrut swallowed his irrational panic and squeezed his fingers around the calloused palm beneath his own.

"You know, I never drank caf until you left." He mused aloud.

Baze gave a huff of breath. Chirrut could feel the heavy weight of his friend's consideration. His skin prickling faintly at the feel of another person looking at him. It was always odd the way it felt, to know that he could exist to others in a dimension that he himself could not access. He bit at his lower lip and Baze muttered, "Yeah?"

It had been so lonely in the temple without Baze, surrounded by people he knew yet lacking the fundamental warmth of friendship he had become so accustomed to. To his own surprise he blurt, "I needed the warmth. Harder to notice a cold heart when you have a hot stomach." He blinked in surprise, pursed his lips as he replayed what he'd said in his mind, and then snorted with laughter. "Well. That was rather dramatic, wasn't it?"

Baze was silent a long moment, long enough for Chirrut's self deprecating giggles to fade before mumbling, "You could have just said you missed me."

Chirrut turned his head to grin toward's his friend. "I missed you." He said. He waited patiently, listening as Baze pulled himself back into a seated position, waited another long moment and asked pointedly, "Did you miss me?"

Chirrut got the distinct impression his friend was rolling his eyes, but he could hear the amusement in his voice when Baze scoffed and growled, "I can't imagine why." Chirrut frowned as invisible fingers lifted the caf mug out of his hand, the tap of ceramic against stone a shock against the much softer sounds of Baze moving beside him. "I'm going to kiss you now." Baze said, it was a statement, a fact, but he sat still until Chirrut recovered from the surprising words and nodded.

It was warm, and soft, and the scratch of facial hair against his mouth sent an odd thrill down his spine. He jerked back in surprise. "You grew a beard." He stated.

Baze sighed.

Chirrut grinned, lifted his hands to Baze's face and slid them over familiar cheeks, large ears and into hair that was four or five inches longer than it had been when he left. "Sorry, sorry," he muttered before tightening his hands in the wavy fluff and tugging his friend back in.

It was better like that, Chirrut pushed Baze's head to the side, pulled him closer, and showed admirable control over his lips to keep from breaking the kiss with a grin. Rough hands slid over his ear and neck, Baze's nose pressed into his cheek, and Chirrut couldn't keep the smile from his face. Which was fine, really, because Baze successfully wiped it off again by pulling Chirrut's bottom lip between his own. Chirrut's hands loosened and then clenched once more, kneading the already tangled cloud of Baze's hair. It was, apparently, a night for surprises.

Chirrut pulled back, Baze's forhead pressed firmly to his own while his lips buzzed with memory. His breath was a stuttered, delicate thing, a mirror to the breath leaving Baze and dancing across his face. Chirrut blinked and slid his hands down to Baze's shoulders. "You should grow it. Your hair."

"It's not allowed." Baze muttered against his lips.

"It's frowned upon, not forbidden." Chirrut repeated. "You can grow your hair and hide these sattelites," he tugged gently at Baze's ears, "and I'll drink caf, and together we will drive the elder monks to... mild irritation."

Baze huffed and shifted closer, their legs pressed together from knee to hip, and the warmth at Chirrut's right side bloomed to sharpen the cold at his left. "There are better ways to break the rules than growing out my hair." Baze admitted.

Chirrut frowned and pulled back to consider his friend, giving himself space to think as the cool air rushed across his flushed face. He frowned and said, "There are many rules, and I am sure there are good reasons for them, but they are the rules of disciples, not the force. If this is why you-"

"No." Baze said firmly.

Chirrut sighed. He was terribly tempted to grab the taller man by the front of his shirt and just shake until he told him what was wrong. He tilted his head and gave Baze a pointed look. Eyebrows raised, and eyes rolled toward where he could feel Baze breathing. "You need sleep. Or a long trip to the fresher."

Baze shrugged. "It'll be morning soon."

"You can always sleep in my room. No one else knows you are back yet." Baze scoffed softly, and Chirrut clicked his tongue like a disapproving mentor. "Don't give me that look. They won't notice you are back."

"You did."

"That is because I'm the best." It wasn't bragging if it was true. All the Jedi had left for matters more important.

"In a bit." Baze grumbled, leaning against Chirrut's side.

Chirrut lifted an arm, wrapped it around Baze's wide shoulders and pressed the man's head to rest against his neck. Baze seemed to collapse against him and Chirrut asked, "Are the stars out?"

"No."

"You did not even look." Chirrut pouted.

Baze growled into his shoulder. "I don't have to look, I saw it all night. It is cloudy."

Chirrut frowned toward the sky. "It would be too much to ask for rain." He shrugged his shoulder, displacing Baze's resting spot. "Look again."

Baze groaned and twisted his head, falling silent for a long moment before sighing. Chirrut smiled smugly toward the sky and Baze said, "There are a couple clear patches."

"And the stars?" Chirrut asked.

"Are there." Baze said simply.

Chirrut rolled his eyes and pushed Baze away. He pulled himself to his feet and held a hand out expectantly. Nothing happened and he said, "I'm putting you to bed. Hopefully you will be less ornery after you have slept."

"Do not hold on to that hope." Baze grumbled, though he did allow himself to be pulled to his feet with a grunt.

Chirrut held fast to Baze's rough hand. Pressed a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth and led him into the temple, heart leaping happily in his chest at the daring rebellion of holding hands amidst the hallowed halls of meditation and respectability. After all, they were not Jedi, and it was not technically forbidden. If it was frowned upon, then that was okay, Chirrut would not see their disapproving eyes and Baze wouldn't care.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and Kudos are loved and although I handle criticism about as well as a four year old I actually would appreciate constructive criticism and tips since I plan to write more of these two and I'd like to do it as well as possible. Thanks for reading!


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